source meets our needs through people, places, and things.
This concept is a very hard one for most of us to really
credit. We tend to believe we must go out and shake a few
trees to make things happen. I would not deny that shaking
a few trees is good for us. In fact, I believe it is necessary. I
call it doing the footwork. I want to say, however, that while
the footwork is necessary, I have seldom seen it pay off in a
linear fashion. It seems to work more like we shake the
apple tree and the universe delivers oranges.
Time and again, I have seen a recovering creative do the
footwork of becoming internally clear and focused about
dreams and delights, take a few outward steps in the
direction of the dream—only to have the universe fling open
an unsuspected door. One of the central tasks of creative
recovery is learning to accept this generosity.

THE VIRTUE TRAP

An artist must have downtime, time to do nothing.
Defending our right to such time takes courage, conviction,
and resiliency. Such time, space, and quiet will strike our
family and friends as a withdrawal from them. It is.
For an artist, withdrawal is necessary. Without it, the artist
in us feels vexed, angry, out of sorts. If such deprivation
continues, our artist becomes sullen, depressed, hostile. We
eventually became like cornered animals, snarling at our